you could make the sun go dark (just by walking away)
by Kiseki-no-neko
Summary: He's going to make it up to her though, somehow. When winter vacation rolls around, an idea strikes him, and he goes into Brenda's room and proposes they go to Minnesota instead of sticking around in Beverly Hills. -Oneshot- -Twincest- -Brandon/Brenda-


you could make the sun go dark (just by walking away)

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Disclaimer: Didn't we already go over this? Nooope

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By: Bunny-chan

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Author's Notes

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Because they are my favorite twincest pairing of FOREVER and I'll probably always find some excuse to write them. Wrote this for the Porn Battle XV. Timeline wise I guess it'd be set near the end of S3? I dunno, before they graduate high school at least. There's no dialogue in this fic because...well, it didn't want any dialogue, what I can do about it! Hope y'all enjoy this one!

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It's a well known fact Brandon is the token good twin, not to say Brenda is _bad_, exactly, but people tend to place more trust and faith in him. He loved it when they were children, something he could hold over her head, he hates it now that they're on the cusp of becoming adults. Two years in California have changed her, and not for the better, boyfriends have cheated on her and dumped her, friends have betrayed her, and she's drawn into herself. She's not the vibrant spitfire she was before they moved, and it makes him sick inside, especially because he hasn't done a damn thing to help her, caught up in his own drama and bullshit.

He's going to make it up to her though, somehow. When winter vacation rolls around, an idea strikes him, and he goes into Brenda's room and proposes they go to Minnesota instead of sticking around in Beverly Hills. She raises an eyebrow, asks why they should trade bright sunshine and warm beaches for cloudy skies and snow. Because they need a break, that's why, because they'll be going to college soon and it's been too long. She shakes her head, calls him weird, but a smile slowly unfurls and she agrees.

It's easy enough to convince their parents to give him the keys to the cabin they still own back in Minnesota. They always went there during winter, for family time, to bond, he thinks it'll work even better with just the two of them. They tell their friends their plans and get the looks of disbelief, the scoffs and the laughter, but they don't care, they have each other and that's all that matters. She packs enough clothes to last her two weeks, even though they're staying for just a week, and she glares at him when he laughs at her.

They fly instead of driving, neither of them wanting to drive for hours upon end. He's not surprised to see the cabin in perfect condition, fully stocked, and clean, of course their dad still pays for its upkeep. They deposit their luggage in the bedroom they used to share, and then she's flying out the door, scarf flying in her wake, as she laughs. He watches her from the doorway, watches as she falls into the snow dramatically, laughing even more, she calls out for him to join her, and he can't help but oblige, she is his weakness, after all.

An hour long snowball fight leaves them chilled and soaked, faces red, and when she would have complained before, she just runs back inside, giggling. He shakes his head, following after her and closing the door, he pulls off his heavy outerwear and gets a fire going, and he's somehow not surprised that when he's done, she's lounging on the kitchen counter with a bottle of tequila in her hand and two glasses next to her.

He gives her a look, they're not old enough to legally drink, and doesn't she remember the party he threw, when he got drunk and almost got into a car accident? She remembers fine and well, thank you, but it's just them and no car, and she won't let anything happen to him. And besides, she opens the bottle, and pours the liquor into the glasses, it's the good stuff, why let it go to waste? He sighs and takes his glass, throwing it back at the same time she does, neither of them so much as wince as it burns down their throats.

Three shots each and she's brushing her lips against his jawline, quietly begging him to kiss her, to fuck her like he loves her. But he does love her, he loves her more than anyone, he cups the back of her neck like always and pulls her into a kiss, they don't have to pretend with each other because they're connected to each other in a way they can never be with other people, and not just because they're twins. Usually guilt would be rising in his throat like bile, but with the liquor in his system, and the noises she's making as his fingers tease her, all he feels is lust, and an unhealthy amount of love.

She sinks down onto him like they were made for each other, and he can't bite back his moan at the familiarity of the motion, he runs his fingers over every inch of her body he can reach, touching all the skin he had been the first to ever feel in this way. It's a slow, burning thing between them, as she pants and bites into his shoulder with every thrust he gives, he continues to tease her, wrenching pleas from her beautiful mouth, until a well placed hand between their bodies pushes her over the edge. The tight, warm clench of her makes him follow in her wake, and she sprawls against him, bonelessly.

He only moves enough to grab the remote to the television set, turning it on, staying inside of her. She has her eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering against his chest, until she hears the weather report, stating that they'll be hit by a snowstorm in two days, big enough that they'll be snowed in. She opens her eyes to stare at him, accuses him of planning this, they won't be able to change their tickets in enough time, so their week long break has gotten an extension. He just shrugs and states he can't control the weather, and she rolls her eyes and says that she knows him, he's prepared for anything. Honestly though, he questions softly, will it really be so bad being stuck together like this?

She shakes her head and laughs at him, pressing a kiss to his chest, claiming _she_ was supposed to be the devious one, not him. He just runs his fingers through her dark hair, bringing her up for a kiss. Here's the secret nobody knows, Brandon Walsh is not the saint everyone thinks he is, he knows it's wrong, _they're_ wrong, but if it makes Brenda happy and bright-eyed, well, he can tell the world to go fuck itself.


End file.
